Burning of the American
Museum

HOW BARNUM RECEIVED THE TIDINGS--HUMOROUS DESCRIPTION OF THE
FIRE--A PUBLIC CALAMITY--GREELEY'S ADVICE--INTENTION TO RE-ESTABLISH THE MUSEUM--SPEECH AT
EMPLOYEES' BENEFIT.

On the 13th day of July, 1865, when Barnum was speaking in
the Legislature at Hartford, against the railroad schemes, a telegram was handed him from
his son-in-law and assistant manager in New York, S. H. Hurd, saying that the American
Museum was in flames and its total destruction certain.

Barnum glanced at the dispatch, folded and laid it in his
desk, and went calmly on with his speech. At the conclusion of his remarks, the bill which
he was advocating was voted upon and carried, and the House adjourned.

Not until then did Barnum hand the telegram to his friend,
William G. Coe, of Winsted, who immediately communicated the intelligence to several
members.

Warm sympathizers at once crowded around him, and one of his
strongest opponents pushing forward, seized his hand, and said: "Mr. Barnum, I am
truly sorry to hear of your great misfortune."

"Sorry," replied Barnum; "why, my dear sir, I
shall not have time to be sorry in a week! It will take me at least that length of time
before I can get over laughing at having whipped you all so nicely on that bill."

But he did find time to be sorry when, next day, he went to
New York and saw nothing of what had been the American Museum but a smouldering mass of
debris.

Here was destroyed, in a few hours, the result of many years'
toil in accumulating from every part of the world myriads of curious productions of nature
and art--a collection which a half a million of dollars and a quarter of a century could
not restore.

In addition to these, there were many Revolutionary relics
and other articles of historical interest that could never be duplicated. Not a thousand
dollars worth of property was saved; the loss was irreparable, and the insurance was only
forty thousand dollars.

The fire probably originated in the engine-room, where steam
was constantly kept up to pump fresh air into the waters of the aquaria and to propel the
immense fans for cooling the atmosphere of the rooms.

All the New York newspapers made a great
"sensation" of the fire, and the full particulars were copied in journals
throughout the country. A facetious reporter; Mr. Nathan D. Urner, of the Tribune, wrote
the following amusing account, which appeared in that journal, July 14, 1865, and was very
generally quoted from and copied by provincial papers, many of whose readers accepted
every line of the glowing narrative as "gospel truth":

"Soon after the breaking out of the conflagration, a
number of strange and terrible howls and moans proceeding from the large apartment in the
third floor of the Museum, corner of Ann street and Broadway, startled the throngs who had
collected in front of the burning building, and who were at first under the impression
that the sounds must proceed from human beings unable to effect their escape. Their
anxiety was somewhat relieved on this score, but their consternation was by no means
decreased upon learning that the room in question was the principal chamber of the
menagerie connected with the Museum, and that there was imminent danger of the release of
the animals there confined, by the action of the flames. Our reporter fortunately occupied
a room on the north corner of Ann street and Broadway, the windows of which looked
immediately into this apartment; and no sooner was he apprised of the fire than he
repaired there, confident of finding items in abundance. Luckily the windows of the Museum
were unclosed, and he had a perfect view of almost the entire interior of the apartment.
The following is his statement of what followed, in his own language.

"Protecting myself from the intense heat as well as I
could by taking the mattress from the bed and erecting it as a bulwark before the window,
with only enough space reserved on the top so as to look out, I anxiously observed the
animals in the opposite room. Immediately opposite the window through which I gazed was a
large cage containing a lion and lioness. To the right hand was the three-storied cage,
containing monkeys at the top, two kangaroos in the second story, and a happy family of
cats, rats, adders, rabbits, etc., in the lower apartment. To the left of the lions' cage
was the tank containing the two vast alligators, and still further to the left, partially
hidden from my sight, was the grand tank containing the great white whale, which has
created such a furore in our sightseeing midst for the past few weeks. Upon the floor were
caged the boa-constrictor, anacondas and rattlesnakes, whose heads would now and then rise
menacingly through the top of the cage. In the extreme right was the cage, entirely shut
from my view at first, containing the Bengal tiger and the Polar bear, whose terrific
growls could be distinctly heard from behind the partition. With a simultaneous bound the
lion and his mate sprang against the bars, which gave way and came down with a great
crash, releasing the beasts, which for a moment, apparently amazed at their sudden
liberty, stood in the middle of the floor lashing their sides with their tails and roaring
dolefully.

"Almost at the same moment the upper part of the
three-storied cage, consumed by the flames, fell forward, letting the rods drop to the
floor, and many other animals were set free. Just at this time the door fell through and
the flames and smoke rolled in like a whirlwind from the Hadean river Cocytus. A horrible
scene in the right-hand corner of the room, a yell of indescribable agony, and a crashing,
grating sound, indicated that the tiger and Polar bear were stirred up to the highest
pitch of excitement. Then there came a great crash, as of the giving way of the bars of
their cage. The flames and smoke momentarily rolled back, and for a few seconds the
interior of the room was visible in the lurid light of the flames, which revealed the
tiger and the lion, locked together in close combat.

"The monkeys were perched around the windows, shivering
with dread, and afraid to jump out. The snakes were writhing about, crippled and blistered
by the heat, darting out their forked tongues, and expressing their rage and fear in the
most sibilant of hisses. The 'Happy Family' were experiencing an amount of beatitude which
was evidently too cordial for philosophical enjoyment. A long tongue of flame had crept
under the cage, completely singing every hair from the cat's body. The felicitous adder
was slowly burning in two and busily engaged in impregnating his organic system with his
own venom. The joyful rat had lost his tail by a falling bar of iron; and the beatific
rabbit, perforated by a red-hot nail, looked as if nothing would be more grateful than a
cool corner in some Esquimaux farm-yard. The members of the delectated convocation were
all huddled together in the bottom of their cage, which suddenly gave way, precipitating
them out of view in the depths below, which by this time were also blazing like the fabled
Tophet.

"At this moment the flames rolled again into the room,
and then again retired. The whale and alligators were by this time suffering dreadful
torments. The water in which they swam was literally boiling. The alligators dashed
fiercely about, endeavoring to escape, and opening and shutting their great jaws in
ferocious torture; but the poor whale, almost boiled, with great ulcers bursting from his
blubbery sides, could only feebly swim about, though blowing excessively, and every now
and then sending up great fountains of spray. At length, crack went the glass sides of the
great cases, and whale and alligators rolled out on the floor with the rushing and
steaming water. The whale died easily, having been pretty well used up before. A few great
gasps and a convulsive flap or two of his mighty flukes were his expiring spasm. One of
the alligators was killed almost immediately by falling across a great fragment of
shattered glass, which cut open his stomach and let out the greater part of his entrails
to the light of day. The remaining alligator became involved in a controversy with an
anaconda, and joined the melee in the centre of the flaming apartment.

"A number of birds which were caged in the upper part of
the building were set free by some charitably inclined person at the first alarm of fire,
and at intervals they flew out. There were many valuable tropical birds, parrots,
cockatoos, mockingbirds, humming-birds, etc., as well as some vultures and eagles, and one
condor. Great excitement existed among the swaying crowds in the streets below as they
took wing. There were confined in the same room a few serpents, which also obtained their
liberty; and soon after the rising and devouring flames began to enwrap the entire
building, a splendid and emblematic sight was presented to the wondering and upgazing
throngs. Bursting through the central casement, with flap of wings and lashing coils,
appeared an eagle and a serpent wreathed in fight. For a moment they hung poised in
mid-air, presenting a novel and terrible conflict. It was the earth and air (or their
respective representatives) at war for mastery; the base and the lofty, the groveller and
the soarer, were engaged in deadly battle. At length the flat head of the serpent sank;
his writhing, sinuous form grew still; and wafted upward by the cheers of the gazing
multitude, the eagle, with a scream of triumph, and bearing his prey in his iron talons,
soared towards the sun. Several monkeys escaped from the burning building to the
neighboring roofs and streets; and considerable excitement was caused by the attempts to
secure them. One of the most amusing incidents in this respect, was in connection with Mr.
James Gordon Bennett. The veteran editor of the Herald was sitting in his private office,
with his back to the open window, calmly discussing with a friend the chances that the
Herald establishment would escape the conflagration, which at that time was threateningly
advancing up Ann street towards Nassau street. In the course of his conversation, Mr.
Bennett observed: 'Although I have usually had good luck in cases of fire, they say that
the devil is ever at one's shoulder, and'--here an exclamation from his friend interrupted
him, and turning quickly he was considerably taken aback at seeing the devil himself, or
something like him, at his very shoulder as he spoke. Recovering his equanimity, with the
ease and suavity which is usual with him in all company, Mr. Bennett was about to address
the intruder, when he perceived that what he had taken for the gentleman in black was
nothing more than a frightened orang-outang. The poor creature, but recently released from
captivity, and doubtless thinking that he might fill some vacancy in the editorial corps
of the paper in question, had descended by the water-pipe and instinctively taken refuge
in the inner sanctum of the establishment. Although the editor--perhaps from the fact that
he saw nothing peculiarly strange in the visitation--soon regained his composure, it was
far otherwise with his friend, who immediately gave the alarm. Mr. Hudson rushed in and
boldly attacked the monkey, grasping him by the throat. The book-editor next came in,
obtaining a clutch upon the brute by the ears; the musical critic followed and seized the
tail with both hands, and a number of reporters, armed with inkstands and sharpened
pencils, came next, followed by a dozen policemen with brandished clubs; at the same time,
the engineer in the basement received the preconcerted signal and got ready his hose,
wherewith to pour boiling hot water upon the heads of, those in the streets, in case it
should prove a regular systematized attack by gorillas, Brazil apes, and chimpanzees.
Opposed to this formidable combination the rash intruder fared badly, and was soon in
durance vile. Numerous other incidents of a similar kind occurred; but some of the most
amusing were in connection with the wax figures.

"Upon the same impulse which prompts men in time of fire
to fling valuable looking-glasses out of three-story windows, and at the same time
tenderly to lower down feather beds--soon after the Museum took fire, a number of sturdy
firemen rushed into the building to carry out the wax figures. There were thousands of
valuable articles which might have been saved if there had been less of solicitude
displayed for the miserable effigies which are usually exhibited under the appellation of
'wax figures.' As it was, a dozen firemen rushed into the apartment where the figures were
kept, amid a multitude of crawling snakes, chattering monkeys and escaped paroquets. The
'Dying Brigand' was unceremoniously throttled and dragged towards the door; liberties were
taken with the tearful 'Senorita' who has so long knelt and so constantly wagged her
doll's head at his side; the mules of the other bandits were upset, and they themselves
roughly seized. The full-length statue of P. T. Barnum fell down of its own accord, as if
disgusted with the whole affair. A red-shined fireman seized with either hand Franklin
Pierce and James Buchanan by their coat-collars, tucked the Prince Imperial of France
under one arm and the Veiled Murderess under the other, and coolly departed for the
street. Two ragged boys quarreled over the Tom Thumb, but at length settled the
controversy by one of them taking the head, the other satisfying himself with the legs
below the knees. They evidently had Tom under their thumbs, and intended to keep him down.
While the curiosity-seeking policeman was garroting Benjamin Franklin, with the idea of
abducting him, a small monkey, flung from the windowsill by the strong hand of an
impatient fireman, made a straight dive, hitting Poor Richard just below the waistcoat,
and passing through his stomach, as fairly as the Harlequin in the 'Green Monster'
pantomime ever pierced the picture with the slit in it, which always hangs so conveniently
low and near. Patrick Henry had his teeth knocked out by a flying missile, and in carrying
Daniel Lambert down stairs, he was found to be so large that they had to break off his
head in order to get him through the door. At length the heat became intense, the
'figgers' began to perspire freely, and the swiftly approaching flames compelled all hands
to desist from any further attempt at rescue. Throwing a parting glance behind as we
passed down the stairs, we saw the remaining dignitaries in a strange plight. Some one had
stuck a cigar in General Washington's mouth, and thus, with his chapeau crushed down over
his eyes and his head leaning upon the ample lap of Moll Pitcher, the Father of his
Country led the van of as sorry a band of patriots as not often comes within one's
experience to see. General Marion was playing a dummy game of poker with General
Lafayette; Governor Morris was having a set-to with Nathan Lane, and James Madison was
executing a Dutch polka with Madam Roland on one arm and Luicretia Borgia on the other.
The next moment the advancing flames compelled us to retire.

"We believe that all the living curiosities were saved;
but the giant girl, Anna Swan, was only rescued with the utmost difficulty. There was not
a door through which her bulky frame could obtain a passage. It was likewise feared that
the stairs would break down, even if she should reach them. Her best friend, the living
skeleton, stood by her as long as he dared, but then deserted her, while, as the heat grew
in intensity, the perspiration rolled from her face in little brooks and rivulets, which
pattered musically upon the floor. At length, as a last resort, the employees of the place
procured a lofty derrick which fortunately happened to be standing near, and erected it
alongside of the Museum. A portion of the wall was then broken off on each side of the
window, the strong tackle was got in readiness, the tall woman was made fast to one end
and swung over the heads of the people in the street, with eighteen men grasping the other
extremity of the line, and lowered down from the third story, amid enthusiastic applause.
A carriage of extraordinary capacity was in readiness, and, entering this, the young lady
was driven away to a hotel.

"When the surviving serpents, that were released by the
partial burning of the box in which they were contained, crept along on the floor to the
balcony of the Museum and dropped on the sidewalk, the crowd, seized with St. Patrick's
aversion to the reptiles, fled with such precipitate haste that they knocked each other
down and trampled on one another in the most reckless and damaging manner.

"Hats were lost, coats torn, boots burst and pantaloons
dropped with magnificent miscellaneousness, and dozens of those who rose from the miry
streets into which they had been thrown looked like the disembodied spirits of a mud bank.
The snakes crawled on the sidewalk and into Broadway, where some of them died from
injuries received, and others were dispatched by the excited populace. Several of the
serpents of the copper-head species escaped the fury of the tumultuous masses, and, true
to their instincts, sought shelter in the World and News offices. A large black bear
escaped from the burning Museum into Ann street, and then made his way into Nassau, and
down that thoroughfare into Wall, where his appearance caused a sensation. Some
superstitious persons believed him the spirit of a departed Ursa Major, and others of his
fraternity welcomed the animal as a favorable omen. The bear walked quietly along to the
Custom House, ascended the steps of the building, and became bewildered, as many a biped
bear has done before him. He seemed to lose his sense of vision, and, no doubt,
endeavoring to operate for a fall, walked over the side of the steps and broke his neck.
He succeeded in his object, but it cost him dearly. The appearance of Bruin in the street
sensibly affected the stock market, and shares fell rapidly; but when he lost his life in
the careless manner we have described, shares advanced again, and the Bulls triumphed once
more.

"Broadway and its crossings have not witnessed a denser
throng for months than assembled at the fire yesterday. Barnum's was always popular, but
it never drew so vast a crowd before. There must have been forty thousand people on
Broadway, between Maiden Lane and Chambers street, and a great portion stayed there until
dusk. So great was the concourse of people that it was with difficulty pedestrians or
vehicles could pass.

"After the fire several high-art epicures, groping among
the ruins, found choice morsels of boiled whale, roasted kangaroo and fricasseed
crocodile, which, it is said, they relished; though the many would have failed to
appreciate such rare edibles. Probably the recherche epicures will declare the only true
way to prepare those meats is to cook them in a Museum wrapped in flames, in the same
manner that the Chinese, according to Charles Lamb, first discovered roast pig in a
burning house, and ever afterward set a house on fire with a pig inside, when they wanted
that particular food."

All the New York journals, and many more in other cities,
editorially expressed their sympathy with the misfortune, and their sense of the loss the
community had sustained in the destruction of the American Museum. The following editorial
is from the New York Tribune of July 14, 1865:

"The destruction of no building in this city could have
caused so much excitement and so much regret as that of Barnum's Museum. The collection of
curiosities was very large, and though many of them may not have had much intrinsic or
memorial value, a considerable portion was certainly of great worth for any Museum. But
aside from this, pleasant memories clustered about the place, which for so many years has
been the chief resort for amusement to the common people who cannot often afford to treat
themselves to a night at the more expensive theatres, while to the children of the city,
Barnum's has been a fountain of delight, ever offering new attractions as captivating and
as implicitly believed in as the Arabian Nights Entertainments: Theatre, Menagerie and
Museum, it amused, instructed, and astonished. If its thousands and tens of thousands of
annual visitors were bewildered sometimes with a Wooly Horse, a What is It? or a Mermaid,
they found repose and certainty in a Giraffe, a Whale or a Rhinoceros. If wax effigies of
pirates and murderers made them shudder lest those dreadful figures should start out of
their glass cases and repeat their horrid deeds, they were reassured by the presence of
the mildest and most amiable of giants, and the fattest of mortal women, whose dead weight
alone could crush all the wax figures into their original cakes. It was a source of
unfailing interest to all country visitors, and New York to many of them was only the
place that held Barnum's Museum. It was the first thing--often the only thing--they
visited when they came among us, and nothing that could have been contrived, out of our
present resources, could have offered so many attractions, unless some more ingenious
showman had undertaken to add to Barnum's collection of waxen criminals by putting in a
cage the live Boards of the Common Council. We mourn its loss, but not as without
consolation. Barnum's Museum is gone, but Barnum himself, happily, did not share the fate
of his rattlesnakes and his, at least, most "un-Happy Family." There are fishes
in the seas and beasts in the forest; birds still fly in the air, and strange creatures
still roam in the deserts; giants and pigmies still wander up and down the earth; the
oldest man, the fattest woman, and the smallest baby are still living, and Barnum will
find them.

"Or even if none of these things or creatures existed,
we could trust to Barnum to make them out of hand. The Museum, then, is only a temporary
loss, and much as we sympathize with the proprietor, the public may trust to his
well-known ability and energy to soon renew a place of amusement which was a source of so
much innocent pleasure, and had in it so many elements of solid excellence."

As already stated, Mr. Barnum's insurance was but forty
thousand dollars while the loss was fully four hundred thousand, and as his premium was
five per cent., he had already paid the insurance companies more than they returned to
him.

His first impulse, on reckoning up his losses, was to retire
from active life and all business occupations, beyond what his real estate interests in
Bridgeport and New York would compel. He went to his old friend, Horace Greeley, and asked
for advice on the subject.

"Accept this fire as a notice to quit, and go
a-fishing," said Mr. Greeley.

"What?" exclaimed Barnum.

"Yes, go a-fishing," replied Greeley. "Why, I
have been wanting to go for thirty years, and have never yet found time to do so."

And but for two considerations Barnum might have taken this
advice. One hundred and fifty employees were thrown out of work at a season when it would
have been difficult to get anything else to do. That was the most important consideration.
Then, too, Barnum felt that a large city like New York needed a good Museum, and that his
experience of a quarter of a century in that direction afforded the greatest facilities
for founding another establishment of the kind. So he took a few days for reflection.

The Museum employees were tendered a benefit at the Academy
of Music, at which most of the dramatic artists in the city gave their services. At the
conclusion Barnum was called for, and made a brilliant speech, in which he announced that
he had decided to establish another Museum, and that, in order to give present occupation
to his employees, he had engaged the Winter Garden Theatre for a few weeks, his new
establishment promising to be ready by fall.

The New York Sun commented on the speech as follows:

"One of the happiest impromptu oratorical efforts that
we have heard for some time was that made by Barnum at the benefit performance given for
his employees on Friday afternoon. If a stranger wanted to satisfy himself how the great
showman had managed so to monopolize the ear and eye of the public during his long career,
he could not have had a better opportunity of doing so than by listening to this address.
Every word, though delivered with apparent carelessness, struck a key-note in the hearts
of his listeners. Simple, forcible and touching, it showed how thoroughly this
extraordinary man comprehends the character of his countrymen, and how easily he can play
upon their feelings.

"Those who look upon Barnum as a mere charlatan, have
really no knowledge of him. It would be easy to demonstrate that the qualities that have
placed him in his present position of notoriety and affluence would, in another pursuit,
have raised him to far greater eminence. In his breadth of views, his profound knowledge
of mankind, his courage under reverses, his indomitable perseverance, his ready eloquence
and his admirable business tact, we recognize the elements that are conducive to success
in most other pursuits. More than almost any other living man, Barnum may be said to be a
representative type of the American mind."

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